The wind outside sliced him through to the core each time he opened the sitting room window.
"The frostiest, still habitable point in Gwyneran," Auren Akalian groaned, sticking the cast-iron poker into the fireplace while reaching out with his other hand to grab his goblet of wine from the lintel.
"This night is ominous, more than most." Patting his stomach absently, he grimaced. Of about average height and stocky, he had managed to retain most of his muscle from his younger years, despite his age, though the ale he was wont to drink did little to help him. "No more ale." I'm too much out of shape to be an effective king anymore. Folthryr needs a strong, capable ruler and I'll make a fool of myself as I am, especially with demonstrations of physical prowess. I haven't picked up a sword since... "Doesn't matter," he spat in front of the roaring fire. "No longer."
Strictly water for me from now on. Besides, what would father say? If he was here, he would think I was a disgrace. Staring down at his belly again, he frowned. I'll start training tomorrow, first with my guards, then with the rest of the soldiers. Slowly but surely. The best things take time. Especially those we've put off for most of our lives.
"Now, however, it's past time to get started with the daily audiences." Standing up, he cupped both of his hands to his mouth. "Janyr!" Where is that idiot of a man? Shirking his duties once again, it seems. He frowned, his brow furrowing as he began to peer into the swirling, beet-colored depths of his goblet. What a fool I was to believe he would ever improve. Maybe I'm just too optimistic. "Yes, my liege," a slightly quavering voice called from somewhere outside of the room. Throwing the door open, the King stared into the face of his attendant, Janyr Yves, his chest heaving and his hair askew.
"Where were you?" Auren clenched his teeth, though his voice retained an even tone. "Fetching you some more ale sir," Janyr smiled, though his lips quivered as he did. "I didn't ask for more," Auren's eyes narrowed, still speaking in a nearly toneless voice. "Well I thought you, I thought, oh blast it," Janyr bowed until he was almost prostrate on the carpet. "Forgive me, my lord, I have failed you yet again. As during the festival, I implore you, forgive me," his voice was muffled by the carpet but his words came out in a rush.
Auren sighed deeply.
"Stand up Janyr. As much of an inamorato as you are. Against my counsel," he raised a finger and the man grimaced, still almost lying down on the carpet, "you are still capable. However, see that this does not happen again while you are in my service."
Janyr shot back up to his feet, his clear blue eyes transfixed on Auren. "I swear on my life, my lord. I'll never sway. Never again."
Auren sighed, rolling his eyes and turning to glance at the room's only window. "What time of day is it?"
"Mid-day sir, just about," Janyr bowed as he spoke, though he shot back to a rigid stance at a wave from the King, his hands shaking at his sides.
"Have there been any messengers or anyone seeking an audience with me?" Auren sat up straight in his chair, a picture forming in his mind of a never-ending line of supplicants. Hopefully not too many. Janyr bobbed his head up and down, then peered down at the carpeted floor before answering. "Huron Whistmere, the third son of Lord William Whistmere of the Estarvayan Wildlands is in the ante-chamber, awaiting your answer as to whether he can speak with you. Sebastian Christiansen is here as well, with the usual supplications," Janyr grinned widely at the mention of the second man and Auren couldn't help following suit, though he brought his mirth back under control in mere moments.
"First of all. Give Christiansen his usual sum and send him on his way until all of the ships are finished." Janyr's head bobbed up and down yet again. "Second, please show Huron to my sitting room and tell him I wish to speak to him immediately," Auren shivered ever so slightly as he spoke the latter man's name, though Janyr's expression remained impassive.
"Weren't you expecting word from the Whistmeres?" Janyr offered. "Yes and no," Akalain answered, looking about the room absently. He leaned back in his chair again, waiting until Janyr hurried out of the room. A log split in two, sending a crackling sound through the fireplace as it slid down the already hefty pile into the bottom of the fireplace. "I wonder what brings the Whistmeres of Estarvaya to me so unexpectedly. It's been three years. Why now?"
After a few moments of silence, three quick knocks sounded at the door. "Enter," The king sat up in his chair once again as a man with something akin to his first real facial hair, with a mane of red tumbling over his shoulders, entered the room. Effulgent in a dark blue coat and black breeches with an ermine jacket on top of it all, he bowed on one knee in front of Akalian, though the latter quickly waved a hand for him to rise.241Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3JXvpY8jXs
"I am glad you have granted me an audience on such short notice."
"Anything for the Whistmere family," Straining with the effort of keeping his expression impassive, The King finally let a smile take over. "Now, old friend, will you take some mulled wine, hot ale, anything?" "Gladly ale," the younger man took the goblet that Janyr proffered him, then slid into the only other chair, which was arranged directly across from Akalian. "Now as to why I have come," he began without any sort of preamble, to which Auren raised both eyebrows. "Right to the point then. No time for pleasantries." Auren offered out a hand, palm up. "Just like you've always been," He winked at the other man who let out a short guffaw.
"Have I been too abrupt, my liege?"
"Not in the slightest," Reaching out a hand, Auren clapped the other man on the shoulder, letting his hand linger there for a moment. "Though if we were still eighteen, we'd be running wild through every drinking hole along the eastern coast with you leading the way."
"When you're right," Huron raised both shoulders at once, smiling for a moment, before shaking out his hair and taking on the far-out expression he'd had when he'd entered, once again. Sipping from his goblet, he continued in a low tone, just above a whisper. "It's worse than ever back home. People have been getting messages from the Ice Wastes, going there, and coming back changed. It wasn't happening to my family until this year, first my father, then my brother, both of whom received a letter and said they had to meet old friends and would return as soon as they could. The last place both were seen was Faerin's Rest just on the edge of the peaks before they crossed over. My father never.." Huron trailed off, sighing.
"He never came back?" Auren all-but shouted into the silence, his eyes widening as he sipped his wine once again.
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